


Shadow in Silver

by Gaqalesqua



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Confessions, Cunnilingus, Denial of Feelings, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Inexperienced Maxson, Mutual Pining, Nora lying through her fucking teeth, Older Woman/Younger Man, Secret Identity, Shameless Smut, The man reads a Lot of romance novels, This was my coursework guys, Vaginal Fingering, and slightly more angsty, everyone telling nora to admit she has a crush, i just made it Bigger, or it was, the whole gang being enablers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaqalesqua/pseuds/Gaqalesqua
Summary: The Silver Shroud stalks the streets of Boston, shooting any Gunners unlucky enough to stumble into their path. Unstoppable, untraceable...and now the subject of a Brotherhood investigation.If Nora had known how much trouble one costume would cause, she'd have dumped the damn thing after the mess with Sinjin.





	1. Chapter 1

Nora had seen a lot in her time after waking up from cryo sleep in the 23rd century. Things that beggared disbelief.

And yet a dossier labelled Silver Shroud field report had to be one of the weirdest. Not least because Arthur Maxson had handed it to her without a hint of irony, like it was perfectly normal for the Brotherhood to open a full investigation into someone dressed up as a comic book vigilante.

"They showed up two weeks ago, alone. Paladin Howell caught a glimpse of them firing down on a group of Gunners as he was in a Vertibird."

"Just the one person?" she asked.

"As far as we know of. If there's another, we haven't seen them," he replied. "Does this figure look familiar?"

She bit down the response she wanted to give.

"I mean, it's a comic book character. The building the studio was based in isn’t too far away, so this honestly could be anyone," she admitted. "I'm sorry I can't be more of a help."

He sighed. "Unfortunate. I was hoping not to encounter an incident like this in the Commonwealth."

She tilted her head. "In the Commonwealth? Is this sort of thing usually a big problem in the Capital?"

"It's been a source of trouble," he said. "One of our Knights once had to defend a settlement from two people dressed as the AntAgoniser and the Mechanist."

Nora's brows raised. That was a sentence that had just come out of the mouth of one of the most serious men she'd ever met. All said without a smirk or a hint of amusement. "That bad?"

"Civilians going mad is never a good thing. Obtaining the weapons and abilities of fictional villains makes the job harder," he pointed out.

Nora nodded. "Fair enough." She leafed quickly through the report. "And you say this person is going after Gunners?"

"For now." He gazed down at the dossier. "I don't like the idea that they may be working their way up the ladder. Gunners first, Brotherhood second."

"Mmm." She handed him back the dossier. "I'll keep an eye out for you."

His fingers brushed hers and Nora barely swallowed down the soft gasp that threatened to escape her lips.

"If you have any updates, let me know immediately. I want this business cleared up as soon as possible," he said. “It’s unlikely there’ll be an incursion on your settlements - if this person was interested in causing trouble for your people, they’ve had ample opportunity to do so when your forces were weaker.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “Nevertheless, your holdings are prime locations to hit if they need food or shelter. If your settlers see anything suspicious, I’d advise they report it to you.”

“I’ll make sure they do,” Nora told him. “Besides, looking at that outfit, it’s not something you can fold up and carry in a bag. Anyone walking around with it is probably wearing it or failing to hide a bulging rucksack, so that narrows down the list of suspects.”

“That is true.” He looked at her, and Nora felt her stomach flutter. “Still, this is a valuable allegiance. I’d hate to see it crumble from the actions of some hostile unknown.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she assured him, and stepped back. "Have a good day, Elder."

He saluted her, those blue eyes fixed on her face. "Ad Victoriam, General."

 

* * *

 

 Deacon somehow didn't make a single smart comment as the Vertibird carried them to the ground, but she could _feel_ him vibrating at her side. To his credit, the Lancer was almost back to the Prydwen by the time he finally let it go and started _howling_.

"Oh god," he sobbed wiping his eyes. "Oh, fuck. Charmer...how did you keep it together up there? Jesus, I'm gonna break a lung. Fuck."

Nora threw up her hands. "What the hell was I meant to say?" she gasped, her lips twitching. "Just look at him - look at Arthur fucking Maxson and say 'it's me, I'm the vigilante, sorry to bother you.' I don't think he would have arrested me but- c'mon you bastard, it's not that funny!"

"Oh god," Deacon groaned. "Oh, god. I'm gonna be telling this one for years to come. I want to know everything, ok? Especially when he finds out in the end."

Nora's brow raised. "How would he find out?"

Deacon held up two fingers. "Ok. First of all, because you love dressing up like that, so you're probably not going to stop, which means that he is going to keep chasing you, and since you hate bloodshed, you'll probably let him catch you. Secondly, because you might tell him out of guilt."

Ok, he had a point. "Screw you for being right on both accounts," she groaned. "Fuck. I should've just told him earlier. Now he’s going to think I kept it from him on purpose.”

Deacon just grinned. "Just give him a sad look with your big blue eyes and bat your lashes at him as you say you're sorry. That'll get him off your ass. Well. For the Shroud thing anyway. He might not want to stay off your ass for _long_."

Nora gave him a look. "Be serious! I could get in trouble for this! Or as much trouble as you can _get_ in with someone who isn't your superior."

"Listen," Deacon slung a friendly arm around her shoulder, "his High And Mighty Elder-ness can't keep his eyes off you. You can't say you didn't notice."

"I'm in skintight Vault blue," she pointed out, crossing her arms.

Deacon nodded enthusiastically. "Right, right, and that means I'm wrong _how_?"

"Deacon, Maxson is a 20 year old," she retorted. "His hormones are all over the place."

"Sure, that's why you hear those stories about him sleeping with every adult on the Prydwen," Deacon drawled. "Face it, General. He's into you. And he'd like to be _way_ more into you, if you get what I mean."

Nora felt her cheeks burn. "You don't even _like_ him," she finally said. "Why do you care? Hell, why are you trying to make _me_ so aware of it?"

Deacon shrugged, and slipped his arm away. "He managed not to be a complete asshole when you took on the Institute. And _you_ , my cryogenic friend, seem to like him _very_ much."

Nora bit her lip. "And the age difference isn't going to be a problem?" she asked.

Deacon grinned. “You wear 239 beautifully, my friend.”

She scoffed. "You are _so_ fired."

Deacon waved a hand. "Doesn't mean I'm wrong."

 

* * *

  

“So, any reason why we haven’t been out much recently?” MacCready asked.

Four Gunners were watching the debris-scattered streets in front of them for any activity, patrolling the front of the hospital like pacing dogs. Mac and Nora crouched behind a sandbag fifty feet away, shielded from sight by the shadow of a building and some piles of rubble. These particular Gunners had been harassing passing traders and patrols for almost a week now.

“Just General stuff,” Nora replied, peering through the scope of her rifle.

MacCready hummed. “So, nothing to do with the Brotherhood of Steel roaming the Commonwealth asking about the Silver Shroud?”

Nora inhaled. “No,” she replied.

“Liar.” He took a moment to track one of the Gunners. “Worried what he’ll think?”

Nora marked the other with her VATS. “Why? He’s not my boss.”

Mac laughed softly. “Don’t be coy.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The Gunners tensed, eyes and guns swivelling to the sky. MacCready paused, listening, and then let out a low moan of frustration at the quickly-growing sound of aircraft.

“It’s the fu-freakin’ Brotherhood?!”

Nora watched the Gunners run for cover. They made a valiant attempt to defend against the Brotherhood until laser fire rained down upon them, backed up by the constant rattling of a minigun.

“What do we do?” MacCready asked.

A deep, metallic boom filled the air as an armoured Knight jumped from the aircraft, and they kicked open the door of the hospital to fire inside.

“Go back to Goodneighbour, I guess,” Nora sighed. "And try to work out why the fuck the Brotherhood are harassing Gunners now."

Mac got to his feet, staying low as he kept his rifle on hand, in case anything else jumped out at them from the nearby alleyways. Nora threw a passing glance behind her as she got up. There were three soldiers now, all concentrating their fire on the hospital, and as Nora and MacCready crept further down the road, they didn't seem to see them go.

They'd cleared their path on the way here, so the journey back was uneventful. Nora's mind was spinning. Maybe Maxson had decided to take the initiative and start hunting down Gunners himself. Nora wasn't going to complain. The less Gunners in the world, the easier her life got.

Besides, Gunners usually camped in places that had lots of supplies to take.

Nora was so deep in thought that she almost didn't see the Vertibird parked on the ground as they approached Goodneighbour, but Mac was more alert than she was, and dragged her back before she could round the corner.

"So," he quickly peered around the wall, "that's a Brotherhood vehicle. Here. Parked outside Goodneighour."

Nora sucked in a breath. They couldn't hear any gunfire or shouting. "It doesn't seem like an invasion…"

"Brotherhood would never invade this place, too many of them come here on shore leave," MacCready muttered.

Nora strained her ears. "I can't hear anything."

"Hopefully a good thing," Mac murmured. "What's the plan?"

She bit her lip. "Is there any other way inside?"

"Only if you use that tunnel Bobbi tricked you into helping her with," MacCready said.

Nora shook her head. "That's miles away. If we see any more Brotherhood on the way, they might be inclined to swoop in, thanks to this getup."

"I could go up and ask," Mac offered.

Nora was about to speak when they heard the sound of Goodneighbour's door squeaking open, and the two of them carefully peered out from behind the wall. Nora swore under her breath.

Arthur Maxson was climbing into the vertibird, his face as stoic as usual. His soldiers got in after him, and the bird took off. Nora and Mac pressed themselves against the wall, hearts racing, and it was only when the aircraft had disappeared from view that they slipped out from behind the wall and darted for the door.

Nora didn't know what to expect as it opened, but she breathed a sigh of relief when nobody in the plaza seemed injured.

At least, she was relieved until Fahrenheit started heading her way.

"Shroud," the woman looked _pissed_ , "boss wants to talk to you."

Nora nodded, sighing, and followed the other woman up into the state house.

 

* * *

  

Hancock was draped across the couch when Fahrenheit opened the door, but he swivelled onto his ass with a slightly mean grin on his face as Nora appeared, Mac still in tow.

"If it ain't the Silver fuckin' Shroud herself," he drawled. "Fresh from kicking Gunner ass, and somehow pissing off Mr Flying Compensation himself."

Nora pulled down the silver scarf to expose her face. "Permission to sit, mr mayor?"

Hancock gestured to the couch next to him. "Granted." He pulled a bottle of whiskey towards him as she took a seat. "So, dollface, beautiful, my Prewar pinup herself - you wanna explain why I had to sit there and experience five minutes too many of Elder Tight-ass demanding info on your fine alter-ego?"

Nora groaned, trying not to rub her face and smear the charcoal she'd lined her eyes with. "Maxson's had bad experiences with cosplayers in the past, apparently. Back in the capital. He's worried I'm more of the same."

Hancock managed to look at her _and_ pour himself a generous amount of alcohol. "Not really a surprise that a neighbourhood of freaks and snappy dressers is his first port of call, then," he chuckled.

Nora coughed. "Actually, I was. As in, the General."

Hancock paused. His eyes met hers as he put the bottle down. "He asked you...about some chick dressed as a vigilante. And you said…?"

"I mean, he didn't specify the gender in the field report," she muttered.

A wheezing noise escaped the ghoul. "He had a _field report_ on this shit, and you didn't die of laughter then and there?"

Nora spread her hands. "Hey, I didn't know what to do! What was I supposed to say?! I didn't know what he'd think!"

Hancock snorted. "Oh doll, you've got it _bad_." He handed her the drink and she took it, brows furrowing, and he grinned. "I'd have killed to be a fly on the wall when you were standing there." He poured himself a drink as Nora handed her glass to MacCready, and then Hancock sat back. "Anyway, I doubt you and I had quite the same encounter."

"Was he...I mean, he didn't threaten you, did he?" Nora asked hurriedly.

Hancock took a drink, waving his hand. "Nah. Even Elder Jackass wouldn't kill me in my own damn office. Made a big show of scowling at me a lot though. Unless that's just how his face is."

Nora swallowed down her question. Hancock gazed over at her. "Bet it's killing you to know what happened, huh?"

She gave him a rueful grin. "Can you blame me?"

Hancock snorted. "Hell no. He came in, looked intimidating, and told me he was 'opening an investigation into the Silver Shroud, and wanted my co operation, since this is meant to be their base of operations.' An' I told him I'd need a little incentive to hand over information about my best girl like that."

"Oh sweet Jesus, you told him I was a woman," Nora whispered.

"Yeah, pretty sure his dick got hard at the thought," the ghoul laughed. "Anyway. Told him I let the Silver Shroud come and go as she pleased, and that she was a real peach who has a thing about righting injustices. He gave me a sorta look but he didn't argue. Just asked if I knew much about her _personal motivations_." Hancock waggled his eyebrows.

Nora groaned. "Hancock, _please_."

"Told him a fella in uniform gets her laser firing, if you know what I mean. Think that made him blush 'cause he got _real_ quiet. Gave him a good ten seconds before he finally 'thanked me for my intel’ and requested that ‘I keep him updated.' So I said that I'd let the Shroud know, and he'd hear from her _personally_ if she had anything to say."

Nora buried her face in her hands. "I hate you," she muttered.

The ghoul was smirking at her when she looked up. "You brought this on yourself, Nora. Should've just told him when he asked. God fuckin' knows I love you and your beautiful blue ass, but I'm not cleaning up your mess if it causes trouble for my town, got it?"

"I know!" she whined. "I _know._ I just...ugh. You've _seen_ him."

Hancock took another drink. "Yup. That's why I told him you're into soldiers, because if that don't get him thinkin' about you in _other_ ways than _threat_ , face it, he just ain't interested."

Nora reached for the whiskey.

"This is the best thing that's happened to me all week," MacCready finally said. "Drinks _and_ free entertainment. I love Goodneighbour."

"You're fired," Nora told him through a mouthful of booze.


	2. Chapter 2

Nora had hoped to spend the afternoon picking off Gunners from the roof of the ironworks. The Brotherhood were crawling around Boston, literally sweeping the streets, cleaning up 200 years of post nuclear mess, along with whatever was stupid enough to attack them. So Nora had taken the Shroud costume out into the wilds for some fresher air.

And for a couple hours, all had been fine. She'd shot most of the Gunners squatting in the junk yard, and it was just coming up to late afternoon when the familiar whirr of aircraft blades filled the air. Nora watched the Vertibird appear on the horizon and sighed.

Well, they were more than welcome to the dregs of her work, and she carefully edged away from the parapet, hugging the shadows as she fumbled for her binoculars. There were three soldiers in the bird, not counting the Lancer, and they hovered above the junkyard to let two of them jump out in full armour.

One bore the familiar emblem of a Brotherhood Paladin.

Nora lowered her binoculars, thinking. That had a 50% chance of being Danse. And if it was, he might be reasonable and hopefully not shoot her on sight.

Actually maybe none of them would, after what Hancock said.

She patted the armour strapped to her legs, slung her rifle over her shoulder, and took off running towards the edge.

The Freefall legs were her prized possession, her reward for half an hour spent trying to get to the top office in Mass Fusion. And after she sprayed them black, they worked perfectly with her costume. More than a few Gunners had shit themselves in terror after she'd vaulted over the edge of a raised platform and landed, unharmed, at the bottom.

Nora landed in the grass and took off running towards the junkyard. She could hear that the fighting was already dying down, and it was unlikely that they'd leave for a while. There was probably a lot of useful scrap that they'd want to mark for themselves, and already, she could see the Vertibird descending.

The quiet chatter of the team could be heard as she reached the old wrecker's, but they didn't notice her as she slunk into the late sunshine, until she pulled out her pistol and fired a shot into the air.

Four soldiers jumped, and turned to stare at her.

Nora paused, scanning the Paladin. She was hoping to recognise some detail of the armour other than the paint. But if this _was_ Danse, he was wearing a helmet and his armour was in good condition.

"Shroud," a Knight whispered.

The Paladin watched her from behind their helmet, raising a rifle. "Silver Shroud. What's your business here?"

Nora tried not to grin. It was Danse all right.

"A word please, Paladin. If you don't mind," she called, trying to use her best _femme fatale_ voice.

"If you have anything to say, you can say it here," Danse told her frostily.

Nora put both weapons down and approached him, keeping her pace even.

"What are you doing?" Danse demanded.

"Going to you, since you won't come over," Nora replied in her best drawl.

He kept his rifle aimed at her. Nora came close enough that he was blocking her from the view of the others, and then she slipped her shades off and pulled her scarf down far enough to reveal her face.

Danse's sharp gasp was muffled by the helmet, but it was definitely still audible. She pulled the scarf up and turned away, heading towards the back of the junkyard.

"Sir?" she heard one of the Knights call.

"Henlocke, Veitch, as you were," Danse told them, and she could hear his armoured stomping as he followed her.

Nora leaned against an old car around the corner, folding her arms, and when Danse appeared, she pulled her scarf down again. In return, he pulled off his helmet, his brown eyes fixed on her face.

"This is unexpected," he finally said.

Nora nodded, sighing. "Yeah. It is."

A long pause. "I'm assuming Maxson doesn't know who you are, based on the fact that he even opened the investigation in the first place."

Nora groaned, her head in her hands. "He handed me a dossier filled with field reports about the Silver Shroud and I just didn't know what to do! Nobody told me you guys would be investigating someone in a costume."

"I assume he told you about the troubles we had in the Capital," Danse began.

She nodded. "God, I could've _died_ when he did. I just didn't think it'd be _that_ important…"

“The Institute’s gone. We’ve got time for ‘unimportant’,” Danse reminded her.

"As have I, hence my dressing up like a comic book character to kill some gangsters," she muttered.

"And Gunners," Danse noted.

She smiled. "And Gunners. But they had it coming." She tilted her head. "Are Gunners one of those things you have time for now?"

She might have imagined the smirk that crossed Danse’s face, because the Paladin fixed her with his gaze and the expression had vanished. 

“Maxson doesn’t tolerate threats to his allies. He made it clear that Gunners are enemies of ours by proxy of being enemies of yours, and that we were to take them out if we saw them," Danse told her.

Butterflies filled her stomach. Maxson was taking out Gunners? For her?

"So," the less she focused on the butterflies, the better, "what now?"

He sighed, and raised a hand to rub his forehead before he realised he was still encased in his armour. “Look, I’ll advise him to drop the investigation, but I can’t promise anything unless you’re willing to come clean.”

Nora’s brows arched. “You’re not going to tell him it was me?”

Danse’s eyes fixed on her. “That could be a risk. Either way. Compromising you is a diplomatic incident just waiting to happen.”

"It might be easier if you tell him," she admitted.

Danse frowned. "You won't?"

"Danse," she didn't care if she smudged her makeup, and she rubbed her eyes, "you think he'll be pleased that I _lied_ to him? _That's_ a diplomatic incident waiting to happen. Can you imagine how _awkward_ it would be to have to leave the Prydwen after that? That's if he's not _mad_ at me."

Danse coughed, looking away.

Nora's brows furrowed. "What?"

"Maxson's been a little distracted by what that ghoul told him in Goodneighbour," Danse admitted. "I can guarantee that if you told him the truth, he wouldn't be mad."

"By what the- oh, _god_ !" Nora yelped, slapping a hand over her mouth. "I'm gonna _kill_ Hancock. I really am."

"Nora." Danse said it softly to keep it from his soldiers. "You and Arthur have been dancing around each other for _months_."

She folded her arms, swallowing. Wow. Even _Danse_ had noticed her little crush.

Wait.

" _And_ Arthur?" she repeated.

Danse groaned, his eyes closing. " _Yes_. _And_ Arthur."

Nora wet her lips. "Oh. I...didn't...think that he...would...well. I didn't...notice."

"It's not exactly subtle, Nora," Danse said. "He doesn't take his eyes off you when you're in the room. Even when you aren't looking." The Paladin paused. "And you're not the queen of discretion yourself either. But neither of you seem to have noticed."

"I'm a Prewar relic in a tricorn and a tight blue jumpsuit, Danse. I'm used to people staring at me," she reminded him.

"And Arthur has hundreds of people looking at him every day, but I can still recognise when two people can't keep their eyes off each other." He watched her as she scuffed her toe in the dirt. "You're pretending not to acknowledge it?"

She looked up. "I'm 29, Danse. He's...he wasn't even born when I was getting into the Vault. He's young. He's been the Elder since he was a teenager. There's a lot of things he hasn't had a chance to experience."

"You're not comfortable with the age differences?" Danse asked.

"I'm fine with them." She pressed her lips together briefly. "Even without the centuries of cryosleep, I'm still almost 30," she pointed out. "I _look_ youthful, thanks to my genetics and my Prewar lifestyle. But in five years, I'll be in my 30s, and he'll be halfway through his 20s. I just...he might change his mind when he realises that I'm not…"

"I think you're best off asking _him_ those questions," Danse told her softly.

Nora didn't have anything to say to that. "I should head off, before your people think something's wrong." She pulled up her scarf and slipped her shades back on.

Danse put his helmet back on. "Give it some thought, Shroud. I'll tell Elder Maxson that he has nothing to fear from you."

 

* * *

 

 

Piper looked up as Nora came through the door, a grin on her lips. "Guess who came to ask me questions about the Silver Shroud this morning," she laughed.

Nora plonked herself down on Piper's couch with a groan. "No, please…"

"'Elder Maxson would like to speak to Ms Wright,'" Piper told her, putting on a gruff voice.

Nora sighed, and Piper fell silent. Nora looked up, and found Piper's gaze on her, green eyes concerned.

"What's wrong, Nora?" she asked softly.

"I think I'm in love with Arthur Maxson," Nora replied.

Piper slapped her thighs and then threw her hands in the air. "FINALLY! _Jesus_ , Nora. It's only been obvious to literally _everyone_ since you first _met_ the jackass." She paused. "...wait, does he know about the-"

"-Shroud thing? No." Nora closed her eyes.

Piper let out a soft _'oh boy.'_ She stood, and sat with Nora, gently squeezing her arm. "If it helps, I think he really wants to meet her."

"Piper," Nora whispered, "I told him I had no idea who the Shroud was."

"Oh boy." Piper squeezed her arm again. "Blue. You have to tell him. Tell him why you _didn't_ tell him at first, then tell him you're sorry. Cause this is just gonna kill you otherwise. Either because you can't concentrate on anything else, or because one of his soldiers shoots you in the head for being a dangerous vigilante."

"What if he hates me and he never wants to talk to me again?" Nora gasped. "I don't...I don't want that to happen, Piper."

"First of all, I spoke to Deacon," Piper began. "Actually, mostly it was Deacon talking to me. And sometimes he tells big lies, but he's also a very discerning individual, mostly."

Nora made a face. Piper continued. "He's been on the ship with you when you were speaking to our resident warlord. And he says that Maxson seems pretty interested in you."

Nora sighed. "Danse said that too."

Piper snorted. "If the tin can is telling you the same thing, it's _fact_. Secondly, if he's interested, then he's probably going to listen to you and hopefully accept your apology."

"Ok, but is he still going to be interested in me when I'm in my forties?" Nora pointed out. "Maybe I look great now. Who's to say that'll be the case in a decade?"

"Who's to say the _other_ side of his face won't be all torn up in a decade?" Piper shot back. "Listen. Nora. You're _gorgeous_. You're gonna be gorgeous even if you live to be, like, 90. And if that bastard loves you even the slightest bit that you seem to love him, he's just gonna consider that part and parcel of the relationship. Shit, we got ghouls out here who don't even have _hair_ and people love them, so…"

Nora finally let out a long, slightly irritated groan. "You're all _way_ too invested in my love life," she muttered.

Piper grinned at her. "Yeah, that's 'cause you _need_ us for shit like this." She pushed some of Nora's hair away from her face. "And if he breaks your heart, steal his airship."

"Oh god, I don't want the Prydwen's running costs," Nora muttered.

"Take everything shiny instead." Piper grasped her shoulders. "But nothing is gonna happen about this, whether good or bad, until you two talk to each other."

 

* * *

 

 

Danse had met the Shroud.

 _Danse_ had _met_ the _Shroud._

Arthur found that the field report on the meeting was lighter than he'd hoped. According to Henlocke and Veitch, Danse had spent a good five to ten minutes talking with the mysterious vigilante, but Danse himself had only written 'confirmed Shroud's position on Brotherhood. Subject is not hostile. Requesting all hostile activities towards Shroud cease immediately.'

Arthur hoped Danse had some explanation for the lack of material here.

Someone knocked on his door. "Elder?" Danse called. "You asked for me?"

"Come in," Arthur told him.

The door swung open, and Danse walked in, fresh from the showers. He took a seat.

Arthur's brows furrowed, and he slid the report back to the Paladin. "Is there something missing from this, Paladin?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"It's something I was hoping to talk to you about personally, sir. Off the record."

Arthur started, sitting up. "Off the record?"

"I didn't think the field report needed to know everything," Danse said. "Not in this case."

Arthur folded his arms. "Proceed."

"Like I said in my report, I confirmed that the Shroud isn't hostile," Danse told him. "She was horrified to think that she'd caused us any concern regarding her vigilante status."

"That seems an abnormally invested position for a Wastelander to hold on the Brotherhood," Arthur noted, frowning. "Did you recognise her without the mask?"

There was a long pause. Arthur watched Danse's eyes scour the report briefly.

"Danse."

The Paladin clasped his fingers together. "What would you say if I told you that this whole investigation could have been close earlier if, perhaps, either we or the Shroud had done something different?"

Arthur's brow rose. "I made sure to take the logical path first, Danse. I asked-" _Nora_  "-the General if she knew anything, and she didn't seem able to help. Then I found out where the Shroud operated from, and requested intel. I also asked a reporter for the same service and she agreed. I didn't fire a shot."

Danse paused, nodding. "You're right," he agreed. "Then what if the Shroud had approached us first and let us know their identity and their commitment to a peaceful relationship?"

"That would have been preferable," Arthur replied. "But you didn't answer my question."

"The Shroud is afraid of retribution for not being open about her identity," Danse told him. "Whether it's a legitimate concern or not, out of respect for the good work she's done against the Gunners, I would rather suggest you meet her in person, as opposed to simply telling you."

Arthur stared hard at Danse. "You trust this person that much?"

"I trust that someone who can use their tactics would have started picking us off far earlier than this," Danse said honestly. "I can accompany you."

"This woman must have made quite an impression," Arthur noted, scanning the report.

Danse nodded. "She did."

He had to be lying. Hiding something. Arthur wondered just what kind of woman could persuade, in one meeting, his own Paladin and close friend to keep his silence. Danse had always been a man of honour, but this was something else entirely.

"You haven't left me with much of a choice," Arthur said.

Danse shook his head. "I expose her or I lie to you. This way, I don't do either."

"Charitable." Arthur fiddled with the report. "What does she look like?" Danse's brow quirked, and the tiniest smirk graced his lips. Arthur gave him a hard stare. _"What?"_

"One talk about meeting a vigilante woman and you've given up on the General?" Danse drawled.

Arthur's face _burned_. His voice cracked and died in his throat. How did- he hadn't- he'd _never_ -

"Arthur. Breathe."

He did as Danse advised, sucking air into his lungs, his eyes closing briefly. His cheeks were still hot. He wanted to ask _how_ , how Danse _knew_. He hadn't _written_ it anywhere. He'd done his best to keep himself professional around her.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Arthur finally said.

Danse couldn't stop himself from snorting, and Arthur watched him laugh.

"You can't keep your eyes off her, Arthur," Danse told him. "But ironically you haven't noticed her doing the same, despite how much you stare at her."

"I don't _stare_ at General Pendleton," Arthur muttered.

"I had this exact conversation with her," Danse told him. "She was equally as in denial about it. It would've been funny if it weren't so irritating."

"What's irritating is your attempt to persuade me that a woman almost in her 30s has _any_ interest in- this is not a _joke_ , Danse!" Arthur snapped.

"Do you not _want_ her to be interested?" Danse asked.

Arthur choked down his words. "She's unlikely to-"

He traced the scar on his cheek.

"Arthur." Danse was looking at him intensely. "This isn't Sarah again. You're 20, not 10."

Sometimes, Arthur felt his age, and when he stared down at the report to try and distract himself from the _stupid_ words that wanted to escape him, this was one of them.

"I'm not lying to you." Danse sat back. "Nora, personally, thinks you won't want her because she's too old, if that helps."

Arthur's eyes widened. "She thinks-"

"-the opposite of what you think." The Paladin crossed his arms.

Arthur looked up at him, and then back at the report. After all those speeches he'd ever written, all the words he could have said - they were completely gone in an instant at the thought of what Danse had just said. There was a strange fluttering in his stomach that he hadn't felt for a very long time.

"Now then," Danse leaned forward again, "about meeting the Shroud."


	3. Chapter 3

Concord seemed like an odd place for the Shroud to ask him to meet her, and Arthur had spent an hour casing every other building in Concord to ensure that this town was in fact as empty as Danse had promised. Now he stood outside the speakeasy, his arms crossed as he mulled over the situation.

He trusted Danse, and Danse trusted her, and he wouldn't find out why until he went inside, but the suspicions that had kept him alive all these years still gnawed at him.

Arthur’s hand fell on the door handle, and after a pause, he pushed it down and swung the door open.

The speakeasy was small, warm and slightly dark, but clean. A few couches were pressed against the nearby walls. A long bar stretched between the far-right wall and a pillar, and behind it was a figure in a black coat, collar turned up to cover the neck. A silver scarf covered the woman’s face. A black hat was perched atop her head, eyes obscured by black-rimmed sunglasses. Arthur paused, staring at her. She shifted, reaching down, and he tensed, a hand going for his pistol.

She pulled up a bottle of Nuka-Cola Quantum, glowing blue and wet with condensation, placing it down on the bar. A stool had been drawn up opposite the Shroud, who was already sat, a half-empty Nuka-Cola in front of them.

Arthur stared at the dark lenses for a few moments before taking a seat.

“The Silver Shroud,” he finally said. He heard her make a soft noise of amusement.

“In the flesh.”

Her voice was soft, husky, and familiar. Arthur’s brow furrowed. "Have we met?"

She reached up, lowering her head and pulling the glasses off her nose, placing them down on the counter. The rim of her hat was hiding the exposed eyes, and he heard her scarf rustle as she tugged it down. She took off her hat and looked up. The Elder’s eyes widened.

General Pendleton picked up the bottle in front of her, and took a swig. Her lipstick left red marks around the rim. Arthur's brain scrambled in an instant, emotions warring inside him. She looked so nonchalant.

"This explains why Danse was so cagey about revealing your identity," he managed. He didn't know _what_ he wanted to do now. There was an urge to berate her for lying, and an ugly twisting sensation in his stomach wanted to ask her _why_ she had kept the truth from him. He took a few deep breaths, both hands flat on the countertop.

"I was hoping he'd tell you," she admitted, pulling off her gloves. She seemed calm but her eyes didn't meet his.

"He was rather insistent on me meeting you," Arthur told her, staring hard at her. "I'm assuming he intended for you to explain your deception." He left out the rest of the conversation, and the way Danse's words had left him nervously excited. "Which I hope you intend to give me."

"Yeah." She shifted from one leg to the other. "When you handed me that folder, I...I didn't know _what_ to do. I didn't know it would cause that much trouble."

"I had to go to Goodneighbour," he reminded her. "I spent time and effort trying to ensure there was no threat to my soldiers, and I did it all without firing a shot. Fortunately for you, your friends all gave me much better explanations than you did. At the time I just assumed you weren't worried about this, thanks to the common enemy and the fact that you have settlements to worry about."

"I'm sorry." She sighed, slipping off her coat. Arthur tried to ignore it. He couldn't be distracted right now. Not by the way it slid off her shoulders and revealed the tight black shirt below, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows to reveal that flawless dark skin.

He remembered his protestations to Danse yesterday and rolled his eyes. She wasn't the only one who needed to stop lying, it seemed.

"I'm serious!" she protested.

Too late, he realised she had interpreted his reaction to his own thoughts as a response to her instead.

"I don't doubt that," he said quickly.

She frowned. "You rolled your eyes at me. I already feel awful for lying to you about this. I don't need you thinking I'm talking shit. I didn't do it out of malice. This is the only time I've ever kept something from you. I just didn't think you'd think it was so...important."

His brow furrowed. "Vigilante activity is a concern regardless of any past troubles we've had with people who dress up in costumes."

"You said it yourself, I have settlements to worry about," she pointed out. "Most days, if it doesn't concern them, it doesn't concern me."

He bristled at that. "As your ally, I'd have hoped you would consider us something to be _concerned_ about, especially if it's something I personally bring to your attention," he told her. "You didn't take this seriously, and I would have _liked_ to have been able to do the same, _before_ having to launch a full investigation."

Nora _deflated_ in front of him. The righteous indignation in him was suddenly gone, replaced by a sharp wave of panic.

"I know," she whispered.

He had never seen her like this. Only ever calm and imposing, moving carefully around the decks of his ship with a confident gait and a warm smile. She could've just stabbed him in the heart and it would've had the same effect. But his heart was still beating, a little faster than before as he tried to figure out what to do next.

"I just felt like I'd missed my chance to tell you, and if I told you later, you'd be suspicious." The nonchalance had completely gone from her, and she still couldn't look him in the eye.

"Why _didn't_ you just tell me before all this?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Nora pulled back from the counter, running a hand through her hair. "I didn't know how far you planned on going with this. When you showed up at Goodneighbour, I realised you were just going to keep pushing it. By that time, I just…I don't know."

He leaned forward. "Didn't know what?"

"How to tell you without making you mad," she finally said. "I didn't want you to think you couldn't trust me. It didn't seem like that big a deal, and then suddenly it was. And I was stuck realising that I could've stopped it from escalating if I'd been brave enough to tell you."

Arthur swallowed. "You were _afraid_ to tell me?"

She shifted on her stool, her eyes fixed on the counter. "I thought you'd be disappointed. In me."

He frowned. "If you'd told me from the beginning? Why would I be _disappointed?"_

She shrugged. "Because I made you worry. That, and I'm an almost 30 year old woman running around the Wasteland dressed like a fictional vigilante."

What had Danse said?

_Nora, personally, thinks you won't want her because she's too old._

Ah.

"I would appreciate, General, if your sense of shame would stop causing you to withhold information from me," he drawled.

"Old habits die hard, I'm afraid." She finally took another drink of her Nuka. "Once you reach my age, you were supposed to be settled down and well behaved, unless the government was benefiting from it in some way."

Arthur uncapped the Quantum she'd given him at the start and took a long drink. He finally put it down, gazing at her. "This isn't the 21st century," he began. "When I ask an ally for information, I need to know that they can be relied on to be truthful, even if the truth is embarrassing."

"So you _don't_ care that your closest ally dresses up like this and shoots at Gunners for fun?" Her brow arched.

He swallowed down the urge to tell her that he _liked_ the way she was dressed. "You're shooting at Gunners."

She made a conceding face, nodding. "True."

He took another drink. This had been...well, not the way he'd thought it would be, that much was for certain.

_You were expecting a complete stranger, maybe some kind of first meeting like out of a novel. For her to be shadowy and mysterious. And...femme fatale. With everything that entailed. Especially after what Hancock said about…'firing her laser'._

Instead…

He tried to glance briefly at the General- Nora- as she sipped her own drink, to take in the sight of her. His gaze was drawn to the silver scarf around her neck, framing the v shape of skin exposed by the neckline of her shirt, but when he finally dragged his eyes up, she was watching him.

His ears burned as he blinked, and she quickly looked away, taking a long, long drink. He did the same, staring at anywhere but her. He was certain he'd almost made her cry just a few minutes ago, and now here he was, looking like a fool who couldn't keep his eyes to himse-

_Ironically you haven't noticed her doing the same, despite how much you stare at her._

Arthur looked back at her, and she was watching him. Her cheeks were dark, her lips caught around the rim of the bottle. He didn't look away, and neither did she.

"This is the first time we've ever been alone together," he said softly.

Nora put the bottle down. "That's true." Her fingers tapped against the glass. "Why?"

All the jumbled words in his mind wanted to escape his mouth, but Arthur had always choked himself whenever he tried to say how he felt. He realised that his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it. "Just an observation," he finally replied.

One of Nora's hands slipped down onto the counter, a few inches from his. "We just had a long conversation about honesty, where I admitted that I moonlight as a fictional character. I think I can handle whatever you want to say and be respectful about it."

He blinked. "Thank you," he finally said.

Then his mind stopped working.


	4. Chapter 4

He was acutely aware of the fact that he was staring at her when she coughed.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I don't know what to say," he admitted.

Nora's head tilted. "I can't really help if I don't know where you're trying to start."

Arthur swallowed, his fingers touching hers. She stiffened, her eyes widening, and he slid his fingertips a little further, up to the next joint. Silently, Nora turned her palm over, and then his hand was in hers.

"Do you want to _not_ talk?" she suggested.

"Please," Arthur whispered.

Nora leaned in, moving their drinks to one side without looking, and just as Arthur went to meet her mouth, she hopped over the countertop and landed next to him, lacing her fingers into his. Her thumb swiped a tiny drop of Quantum from the edge of his lip.

He couldn’t bear it any more.

Nora’s body was warm beneath the black fabric as Arthur grabbed her around the waist, pulling her in for a kiss. She melted into him with a groan, her arms wrapping around his neck. She tasted of cola, and she made soft little noises against his mouth. Her hand curled into his hair, and she dug her fingers into his scalp.

The heat of her body bled through her shirt, warming his suit. Lips moving gently against his, her other hand grabbed his coat. Arthur let his palms glide up her back and grip her shoulders, almost pulling her into the coat with him.

Her hand left his lapel, and slipped beneath it to press against his chest, just over his heart, gently stroking across the black fabric. He wanted to pull her into his lap, but as one hand dragged down her back, hovering at the waistband of her pants, he realised that he was still on the stool. Getting up would mean her moving away from him, just briefly, but Arthur was loathe to part from her for even a second.

He forced himself to stand, and their lips parted as he realised just how much taller than her he _was_. It almost made him giddy.

“Something wrong?” Nora murmured.

He managed to move them over to the couch in between kisses, and that seemed to reassure her. Her back hit the cushions, and Arthur knelt over her, reaching for her scarf. As he tossed it aside, his eyes fell on the column of her neck. The temptation was too much.

Arthur gathered up her hair in one hand, his lips meeting the soft skin just below her jaw. Nora gasped, gripping his coat, and turned her head to give him better access. Her thigh skimmed his, and he could just about see her chest rising and falling with each sharp little inhale that came from every kiss. She whimpered out his name as his teeth marked the damp patch where his mouth had just been, and he followed it up with a few sucks.

He wanted to leave a mark. Part of him wasn’t all that sure that he wasn’t dreaming, and if he woke up tomorrow and saw that bruise…

He left a trail of those marks down her neck, his tongue swiping against each one until he was nosing aside the collar of her shirt, his eyes fixing on the way the curve of her breast rose and fell beneath the fabric. He would’ve heard her breath hitching even if he didn’t _see_ it, and he briefly blew a gentle wisp of cool air just below her collarbone.

Nora’s head turned. Arthur looked up to see her watching him. Her lips were parted, face flushed, and her eyes were bright, but hooded. He claimed another kiss, even as he noticed the smudged lipstick just before he did so, and his eyes briefly found her neck again to see that, yes, there was a wonky line of vibrant red smears following each love bite.

Just as he realised he wanted to leave more of those marks, Nora lifted her hand to wipe the lipstick off his mouth. He caught her wrist, cheek pressing against her palm. She made a soft cooing noise that turned into a whine when he kissed her pulse, smearing red against the skin. He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he gently made his way to the crook of her elbow, the lipstick marks growing fainter as he went, until he reached the rolled-up sleeve and stopped.

Her hand cupped the back of his head as he looked back at the red trail running down her neck to her collarbone. A sudden nervousness struck him, combined with an urgent desire to rip open her shirt. It was an odd combination.

Would she want to take it this far, the first time they’d ever even kissed? He knew she’d been married. Which made it worse. He had no idea if he could live up to her husband. She’d never talked about...their _encounters_ with him. And he would never expect her to. But she still...

Nora seemed to sense his hesitation. “We don’t have to,” she began, and Arthur realised that she thought he-

“I want to,” he groaned, and kissed her roughly.

Nora moaned, her hands sliding beneath his coat and wrapping around his shoulders to pull him in closer. He almost fell, trying not to put his full weight onto her, but it was enough closeness that his erection pressed into her through the tight suit. She just wriggled into it, and Arthur gasped against her kisses. Nora nipped at his lip, her nails dragging slowly down his back. Even through the suit, it made him shiver, hips grinding into the apex of her thighs.

The soft noises of pleasure that she let out, and the way she rocked against him, mostly soothed his fears about his performance. If she had any concerns about him matching up in any way, she didn’t seem to have voiced them. In fact, as she raised a hand and tugged on the sleeve of his coat, she seemed more interested in ensuring she got the chance to find out if he would.

Arthur slipped his coat off, tossing it over to the other couch as he nuzzled the woman beneath him. Her hand pressed against his chest. Arthur drew back, but when he felt her fingers at his neck, unbuckling his collar, the faint worry that he'd had disappeared immediately. 

Her palm smoothed across the black fabric, and hooked into the zip, pulling it slowly down. It jarred a little when it wouldn't go any further, but that didn't seem to bother her, and as she leaned in for another kiss, her fingers combed through the dark hair covering his chest. 

Arthur placed a hand on her stomach, and slowly inched it over to the buttons keeping her shirt closed. Nora looked down, and even as her breath hitched, she caught his hand, and one at a time, she slipped the fingerless gloves off, throwing them to join his coat. Gripping his hand, she linked their fingers, thumb brushing across the back of his hand as she kissed him again. 

His other hand resumed its attempts to reach the middle of her shirt. Nora let him, releasing his hand to cup the back of his neck and comb her fingers through his hair. Arthur slowly opened her shirt, and when the back of his fingers brushed against her breast, he felt her heartbeat skipping. 

Brotherhood standard-issue underwear for Sisters included a plain white bra and panties. So when Arthur tugged Nora's unbuttoned shirt open, he found himself staring at something that looked more out of the pinup magazines that he'd seen circulating among his soldiers. The fabric was soft and black, the cups fringed with black lace. His mouth immediately dried. There was a painful ache coming from his cock and he looked up at Nora to see her biting her lip, grinning a shy little grin at him that he wiped off her face with a deep kiss. 

"Where did you _get_ that?" he panted. 

Nora nibbled his lower lip before she kissed it gently. "Kent made it after I asked him to." 

Arthur frowned, tracing his fingers over the straps. "Kent?"

"Goodneighbour kid who runs the Silver Shroud radio station." Her eyes were fixed on his left hand. "I brought him the materials."

His brows furrowed. "So he would have seen…"

Nora grabbed his collar, forcing him to look at her. "I gave him a spare set and everything he'd need to change it, he just modified them. You're the first person to see me this undressed in a very long time." She cupped the back of his head. 

Arthur swallowed down his jealousy, and reached down to tug her sleeves down her arms. Nora moaned as his mouth attacked her neck, and she arched up to let him slide his hand over her back, beneath her open shirt. 

His nails scratched down her back, just a little. Nora _yelped_ , clinging to him suddenly. One leg hooked around his waist, and for the first time, those thigh high boots pressed against him, her hip near his elbow as he scratched again. Arthur concentrated on leaving a few more marks on her neck, nudging her head aside to do the same to the other side. His free hand traced down one strap, teasing along the edge of the cup to the centre of the bra.

Her hands moved, one flying into his hair to hold him at her neck and encourage more nips and licks. The other brushed up his stomach, grasping his collar, and Arthur barely had a moment to realise what she was doing before she was leaning up to copy him, biting along his neck and the exposed muscle running down to his shoulder.

Arthur groaned, crushing her against him and trying to pay her back for the treatment, but Nora's fingers were curled into his hair now and she held his head in place. Her tongue swept out over the bite marks. Arthur ground his hips into hers, hearing her moan softly.

She finally released his hair, and grabbed hold of his flight suit, trying to tug it down over his shoulders. Arthur caught her hands, pinning them above her head. Nora gasped, licked her lips, and flushed. Her hands twisted a little. 

"You're wearing more than me," he pointed out. 

He guided her hands down, and then he stripped her shirt off, balling it up to chuck it with his clothes. Arthur skimmed his palms up her back, dragging his nails over the skin. She arched up, moaning. His fingers found the clasp of her bra, unhooking it. Dragging the two halves back as he sat up, he carefully slipped the bra off. Nora's kneejerk movement, arms covering her breasts, was ignored just long enough for him to throw the bra aside, and then he was scratching up her sides. 

She gasped out a laugh, both hands grabbing his. He pinned her hands down, getting an eyeful of the lush curves beneath the fabric. Nora's hands curled into fists, and she couldn't look at him until he leaned down to nibble at one unmarked section of her neck, trailing a line of kisses up her jaw to her mouth. 

Nora moaned into the kiss, and when he released her hands, she wrapped them around his shoulders. Arthur seized the opportunity, his head ducking down. His mouth wrapped around her nipple. The noise that Nora let out was squeaky and desperate. She was quickly grabbing hold of his hair, and Arthur cupped her breasts in both hands, his thumb brushing over the unattended peak as he lapped at the one beneath his lips. 

"Fuck, _Arthur_ ," she groaned, and he looked up at her to watch her bite her lip, her eyes tightly shut. She was so _soft_ , and she said his name like it was the best thing she’d ever heard, and as his mouth dragged against the swell of her breast, moving across to the other nipple, he could feel her heart pounding. His tongue swept out as he dropped one hand to her waist and hooked a finger into her pants. Nora's skin twitched beneath his touch, and she ground herself against him, one hand going to where he was poised at the hem. 

Arthur dragged his finger along the waistband until it reached the button, and he unhooked it, dragging down her zip. Nora panted as his fingers rubbed against her slit through the fabric. He could _feel_ how easily it moved, and he kept his mouth where it was, both hands going to tug her pants down. 

They got a few inches lower before they snagged against her boots. 

Arthur looked down, grunting. Nora laughed, apologetic as she brushed her fingers through his hair. Disappointment rushed through him. He didn't want to remove the boots, but he _did_ want to get her pants off, and one was blocking the other.  

"How good is Kent at fixing these?" Arthur suddenly wondered. He looked up to see Nora's eyes widen, and her voice caught in her throat. 

"You're not serious," she protested. Arthur rubbed his fingers against her again, watching her back arch as her eyes fluttered shut. Her nails dug into his scalp.

"I'll pay to replace them myself," Arthur promised.

Nora looked up at him, licking her lips. "You can't just...take the boots off?"

Arthur stared briefly down at her footwear. "No," he replied. "I have no intention of taking these off you." 

Slipping her belt off, Arthur grabbed hold of her pants and _ripped_. The noise as the seams split made Nora gasp. He kept shredding, pulling up the legs of her pants and tearing them open at the side. Nora looked torn between aroused and disgruntled. Her arms were crossed but her lip was between her teeth, and when finally the only thing between him and her was her underwear, she placed a hand on his chest. 

"You're wearing more than me."

He let himself smile at that, and the look that came over her face was soft and pleased. His brow furrowed as she reached up to start dragging his suit off. "What's that look for?"

"I like it when you smile," Nora told him. 

Arthur let out a soft breath, and leaned in to kiss her, warmth spreading across his chest. She traced patterns into his skin with her nails as he slowly pulled the suit down to his waist, her tongue licking along his lower lip before she nipped it. She scratched down his sides, and Arthur tore away from the kiss with a gasp, watching her grin. 

Arms free from the sleeves, he reached down to grasp her underwear. Nora gripped his wrist. One hand pulled his tags over his head and threw them to join the pile of clothes opposite. Arthur gazed down at her, brow arching. 

"You're still overdressed," she said softly. 

He sat up, and so did she, tugging her hair free of the hairgrip as he kicked off his boots, and then arched up to push his suit down to his knees. Lips pressed against his shoulder as he threw his suit onto the pile, and he wondered if there was any lipstick left to leave a mark. He leaned back, just as a leg swung over his thighs, and Nora clambered into his lap to give him another kiss. Her hair was loose, swinging around her shoulders. As Arthur raised a hand to comb his fingers through it, he barely noticed her grabbing the side of his boxers under there was a loud _rip_ , the seams splitting. He looked down just in time to catch her tearing open the other side, and he looked up to see her grinning at him. 

Nora yelped as he twisted around and threw her back onto the couch. Her hair was wild around her head and face, and she pushed some out of her eyes as he knelt over her. One hand grabbed her wrists, and Nora’s aroused moan was cut off by his next kiss as his other hand grasped her breast, drawing circles around the nipple with his thumb before it slipped down her body. He scratched his nails down her back. Nora groaned, her thigh brushing against his waist. The insides of her thighs were so _soft_ , and as Arthur reached the waistband of her underwear, he couldn’t help squeezing the exposed flesh. 

His thumb brushed across her pulse as he nibbled on her lower lip, and two fingers brushed up the inside of her thigh until they were at the seat of her underwear. Wiry dark hairs tickled his fingertips. Arthur hooked his hand beneath the leg of her panties, and slowly pushed the fabric to one side as Nora panted expectantly beneath him.

He needed two hands. 

Arthur looked over to where he’d thrown her scarf and managed to reach out, snagging it off the coffee table. Nora’s eyes widened, and by the laboured breathing and the parted lips, the way she held her wrists perfectly still to let him tie her up, he had to guess that she liked this rather a lot. 

Hands free, Arthur scooted down her body, leaving brief kisses and nips as he went, and grabbed the waistband of her underwear. Nora held her breath, her eyes fixed on him as he dragged the fabric down, hooking it over her boots before he tossed it to join the pile of clothes, hoping nothing fell on the floor. 

Nora Pendleton was finally lying tied up below him in nothing but a pair of thigh-high boots, and Arthur had started plenty of fantasies in this exact same way. Except none of those could give him a true reflection of how she’d really look, with her eyes bright and her face flushed, and the obvious slick between her thighs. He swallowed, nerves churning his stomach suddenly as he reached out a hand to brush his thumb down the length of her. Nora whimpered, her eyes shutting. 

Despite the insistent throb of his erection, Arthur couldn’t help himself. He did it again, thumb brushing her repeatedly. She shifted, working her hips into his touch, and Arthur tried to remember everything he’d read in those romance novels. He lifted his hand to his mouth, licking his thumb, and pressed it against her nub. Nora’s voice cracked around the next sound, and he began to rub circles against it, one finger stroking the wet slit. Nora bit her lip, throwing her head back. 

“ _Arthur,_ ” she groaned, her thigh twitching as his lips pressed against it, just above the top of her boot. He kissed a little higher, and she _panted_ , like she’d forgotten how to breathe, and this time he dug his teeth in. 

She almost clocked him in the head with her thigh. 

“Hey,” he protested lightly, wrapping a hand around her leg and pinning it as his thumb kept on stroking. Nora watched him, her eyes dropping a little, and as Arthur kissed her thigh again, he realised she was staring at his mouth. 

He paused, two fingers hovering gently against Nora's slit, and then he kissed a little further up. That panting came again, and Arthur began trailing his kisses upwards, following her thigh up to where it met wiry dark curls. His fingers slid against the wetness and Nora bit her lip, groaning. He'd never had much more than a few short encounters before this, and even his first time had been with a Knight his own age that felt like it was over before it had really begun. 

Everything else had come from a well stocked and well hidden library that he hadn't managed to sneak aboard the Prydwen. 

And now he recalled something from them that he'd always wondered about. 

He slipped his fingers into her and watched as Nora's hips wriggled, her walls clamping down on him. There was nothing keeping her hands above her head, and so she reached down to tangle her fingers into his hair as he brushed his thumb against that nub again, pushing aside the curls to expose it properly. Nora was almost _vibrating_ against him. 

He looked up. There was an expression on her face that he could only describe as half tortured, half blissed. 

It was wiped completely the moment he leaned in and licked up from his fingers to his thumb. 

A half scream filled the room as Nora arched up, her other thigh moving to snap tight around his head. The taste of her was strange, tart and musky. Arthur did it again, and again, shifting a little so that he could do that _and_ slowly work his fingers in and out of her. Her hips bucked against his touch. Arthur marvelled at the wetness clinging to his fingers even as he hooked an arm beneath her thigh, one hand skimming up and down her leg, brushing against the hairs that stuck up as he ran his touch over them, his tongue still making those slow laps up from where his fingers were buried in her to just below her mound, kissing when he reached the top. 

"Arthur," she groaned. It sounded like a word of thanks rather than her trying to get his attention, and he nipped briefly at her thigh, feeling it quiver against him. He left a few more bites up the soft skin, sucking to leave marks. He wanted to see if it would make her walk strangely tomorrow. Half of him wasn't convinced that he was actually awake at the moment. 

The fingers tugging on his hair _felt_ real enough. 

He looked up as she began to comb her hand over his scalp, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds. 

She grabbed a firm handful of hair and _pulled._

Arthur's cock throbbed with a sudden urgency and he almost buried his teeth in her thigh when the pleasure and pain hit him all at once. Body tensing, writhing against the couch, a helpless keening noise escaped his mouth. His nails dug into her leg and he slipped his fingers out of her before he hurt her. 

Arthur finally looked up to see Nora staring down at him in wonder, her eyes wide. There was a smile creeping across her face and Arthur was too winded from what she'd just done to try and contest it. Brows furrowing, he kept his eyes fixed on her face, and leaned down, his tongue making a broad swipe up the length of her again until it brushed over the little nub. 

Nora's head fell back, her bite-marked throat exposed as her thighs tensed around his head. He watched, mesmerised by the sight, and did it again, trying to watch and see what got the best reaction. Her hips _lifted_ , and she squeezed him when the tip of his tongue stroked the nub, her voice cracking around his name. He grunted to himself, pleased with her reaction. 

He focused his touch there, still not quite sure on what was best. Part of Arthur wished those books had gone into more detail, but it couldn't be helped now. There was no time limit on this. He brushed his mouth against her folds like a kiss. Nora shivered. He did it again, pulling her closer, the kiss firm and followed up by another lap. Nora moaned, thighs tensing. 

Arthur had learned pretty quickly that if she was squeezing him, that meant good things. He shifted, sliding his fingers back into her as her hands gripped his hair. 

"I can't do this if you do that," he admitted, and looked up as she began gently patting the top of his head. He pushed the wiry curls aside and moved back to what he was doing before. Arthur could hear her breathless gasps as his tongue rubbed against that nub, and he tried to remember if there was a word for it that wasn't hideously clinical. 

Nora dragged his head closer, and Arthur stopped worrying about it, his hand snaking up her body to cup her breast. His thumb rubbed against her nipple as he slowly moved his hand, working his fingers in and out of her. Her cries were coming sharply now. Arthur remembered what she'd said earlier about him being the first in a very long time. Pride rushed through him like a brief wash of heat, and he ground his tongue against her. Her nails dug into his scalp, fingers shaking. The soft leather of her boots slid over his back as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him flush against her. 

Arthur had never been one to disappoint.

Nora let out a strangled gasp as his mouth fixed around that nub, his fingers moving faster. Her voice broke. He kept his eyes fixed on her, watching as she quivered, and ignored his own, quickly-growing needs. Right now, the sight of her back arching off the couch, the sharp sting of her nails digging into his scalp, were all he wanted. She _bucked_ , and he felt her legs tense either side of him. Arthur let his hand wander up as he kept on sucking. She was getting tight around his fingers, and he didn’t stop, his hand moving faster. 

She was starting to shake. Her head twisted to the side, burying itself in the side of the couch, and briefly Arthur realised that the side of her neck exposed to him wasn’t covered in bite marks. His tongue ground _hard_ against her nub, and Nora _yelped_ , as he resolved to rectify that the moment she let him. By the way her heels were digging into his back, it wouldn’t take her long. 

Her eyes rolled up, and her face twisted, looking like she was in pain. Her hands _yanked_ at his hair again, but he rode through it with a growl, determined to make her cum first. 

His fingers brushed something inside her. 

Nora’s voice filled the room, cracking and dying several times as she clamped down on his hand and _writhed_ underneath him. He watched as her flushed lips parted, mouth opening wide. Cheeks dark, her eyes squeezed shut, it was an expression that he drank in. Her thighs were shaking, and they almost crushed him as he kept going, not stopping as a long, helpless wail escaped her. The _noise_ of his fingers suddenly got louder, and he was immediately aware of how much _wetter_ his hand was. But, he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to. 

“Arthur,” Nora was trembling, her fingers pulling weakly on his hair, “Arthur, Arthur, _Arthur_ …”

Arthur finally relented, slipping his fingers out of her. He felt _wet_. He licked his lips, and then he lifted his hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. Nora had pressed her bound wrists against her forehead, but she was watching him from beneath them. 

Arthur reached up and tugged her hands down so he could see her face. 

Her bangs were stuck to her forehead, and her skin gleamed, glowing in the aftermath of her orgasm. More pride washed through him, and Arthur pressed a kiss to her thigh again. She snapped her legs shut with a loud yelp, and he pried them open, narrowly avoiding getting hit in the face. His wet fingers traced her slit and she almost squirmed out of his hand. 

“Sensitive?” he murmured. He could watch her do that all day. 

She levelled him with what would have been a glare if her chest hadn’t been rapidly rising and falling, lips pulling in sharp breaths. Arthur crawled up her body, until his hips were snug between her thighs and his chest was pressing against hers, watching as she recovered. 

Nora reached up and wiped some of her off his mouth. “Do you want to clean up?” she asked softly. 

Arthur paused. It might be wise. He nodded, and slid off her, leaving a few kisses as he went. There was a bottle of purified water behind the counter, and he washed his face clean of her slick, wiping off with a scrap of fabric. Nora was tugging the scarf off with her teeth when he returned, and his brow furrowed as he knelt over her. 

When she tossed the silver fabric aside and reached down to wrap her fingers around his cock, any protest was wiped clean from his brain. His forehead pressed against hers, and he kissed her roughly, moaning into her lips. Her other hand grasped his shoulder, and her leg slid around his hip, pushing as her hand tugged. Arthur let her move him, his back hitting the couch before he settled against the cushions. His erection had flagged a little from lack of attention, but her touch, coupled with the way she spread her thighs around his waist, sent a new throb of need through his body. He cupped her face in one hand, the other tangling into her hair as he pulled her down for a kiss. Leather brushed the outside of his thighs. The heat from her body burned against his skin. 

Then she was sitting, trapping his erection against her slit and his stomach. Arthur let out a winded grunt, trembling. Her fingertip trailed down what of him wasn’t covered by her, teasing just below the head. 

“Nora,” he gasped out. 

He heard her chuckle. 

Nora ground her hips down against him, and it was Arthur’s turn to buck, one hand flying down to clamp onto her waist with a vice-like grip, coaxing her into doing that again. She did so, her slick coating him and making each roll just that much more intense. He moaned into their kiss, his eyes closing. She nibbled on his lower lip. 

“Are you all right?” she murmured, her voice hitching. 

“Was that a serious question?” he gasped. 

Nora grinned at him. “I need to be certain.”

Arthur surged upwards, moving into a sitting position as one hand crushed the woman against his chest, pulling her up. His cock sprung up from below her, and he grabbed her hips, drawing back to look her in the eye as he pressed the tip against her folds. “Is this certain enough?” he drawled.

Nora’s hand grasped his shoulder, the other carefully gripping his length and keeping it in place as she sank down into his lap. Arthur’s nails dug into her skin as he sucked in a breath, his eyes closing. 

“Mmm,” her hands would be leaving similar marks in his skin after this, “mm _hmm_.” 

It had been a very long time for Arthur. Years since he’d done anything that didn’t involve a quiet moment with his hand and whatever material he’d been able to sneak away for reading. He’d forgotten how _soft_ everything felt, and, _fuck_ , she was so _wet_. In all the time he’d known her, that he’d been thinking about her, about _this_ , he’d worried about it all being _over_ too quickly. And what a valid concern it seemed to be now, with her wrapped around him, her fingers gently stroking and petting along his shoulders. If he opened his eyes, was that going to be enough to send him over the edge?

“Arthur.” Her lips found his jaw. “You don’t have to.”

His eyes cracked open, and they found her watching his face, her own a mask of concern. “I…” He skimmed his hands up her back. “It’s...been a while.”

She pushed a few stray hairs away from his eyes. He hadn’t even noticed them fall. Skimming her hand down his face, her thumb brushed his lips. He kissed the pad, and she smiled at him. “Don’t worry about it. It’s...your turn anyway.”

Her hands braced against his chest, and he let her guide him down until his back was against the couch. His heart pounding in his ribcage, Arthur realised his breathing was already heavy and expectant. He didn’t want to disappoint her. Everything about this, about her, seemed designed to drive him insane - the warm smiles, the gentle confidence as she braced her hands on his chest and lifted her hips a little, the way her legs looked in those _boots_. Arthur felt like he was going to explode. 

“Hey.”

His eyes met hers as he gripped her waist again. 

“Breathe, _abhika_ ,” she said softly. 

His brow furrowed. What had she said? What did it mean? But he did as he was told, taking in a deep breath. Nora raised a hand, gently brushing the back of her hand across his cheek, rubbing up against the Deathclaw scar. Arthur turned his head to kiss it, and she smiled at him again. 

Then she dropped her hips into his lap and Arthur sucked in a growl. 

The couch wasn’t particularly wide, so he kept his thighs as close as he could to give her space to brace herself either side of him. Her feet hooked over his legs, and Arthur realised, as she raised herself again, that she was using his body as leverage. She dropped down again, and his eyes fell to where he disappeared into her, his lips parting. Watching it happen was hypnotic, and something about it just made his stomach flutter, heat and pleasure building in his abdomen. He kept his iron grip on her hips, more to ground himself than to actual try and command her movements. Nora seemed to know this, and she set her own pace, her nails scratching down his chest. Arthur _hissed_ , bucking up into her as his eyes closed, head falling against the cushions. 

That was when Nora rocked a little faster, a little harder. Arthur’s grip on her was vice-like, and he wondered if there would be bruises on her hips. If he’d left another mark to prove this wasn’t all some kind of dream. Nora moaned above him, and he felt the heat of her close to him as she leaned down. Arthur looked up, just in time for her to lean in for a kiss, her hips still rocking. There was a _wet_ noise that he could just about hear, and her chest pressed against his. He groaned into the kiss, grabbing hold of her ass as he moved with her. Nora hummed happily, her teeth tugging at his lower lip. 

Arthur finally opened his eyes when she pulled away, and his first vision was Nora’s expression. She looked just like she had when he’d first touched her, lips parted, brows drawn, her eyes slightly hooded. He felt an unwelcome tension making itself known between his thighs. 

“Nora,” he warned, and she nodded, sitting back. 

Arthur couldn’t stop the way his voice wavered when she did that, her muscles squeezing him briefly. She reached for his hands, moving them, and before she even finished placing them, Arthur’s thumb was between her thighs, his hand grasping her breast. She shot him a smile that made his heart flutter, even as her brows quirked, her eyes closing. 

She leaned back, hands bracing against his thighs as she worked her hips in a constant _up-down_ motion that he couldn’t look away from. He briefly looked at her face, but she’d thrown her head back just as he did so. A tremor rushed through him. He rubbed his thumb a little harder, and a loud cry filled the room. Nora’s head fell forward, her eyes finding his, and she was smiling, her face flushed. 

 _Shit_. 

He grabbed her ass again, digging his nails in as he fought off his orgasm. Eyes closing, he bit down hard on his lower lip, as he felt a hand press against the one between Nora’s thighs. Her hips were moving faster now, and Arthur _hissed_ , his eyes opening. 

Nora was gazing down at him, panting. The hand covering his traced down his forearm, stroking the crook of his elbow, and she leaned in, still rocking against him as her fingers touched his bicep. They found his shoulder, dancing across his collarbone to his neck, and her other hand began to follow the trail on his other arm. Her touch reached his jaw, gently rubbing his temples.

Both hands found his hair. 

Arthur had half a moment to feel the sudden _explosion_ of aroused butterflies swoop in his belly before she grabbed firm, solid handfuls and _pulled_. 

Pleasurable pain suffused his body, coiling tight between his thighs and forcing his hips up, bucking helplessly into Nora’s as his eyes squeezed shut. The sound that escaped him was something like a wail and yelp combined into one, drawn out and fracturing as he yanked her down into his lap and dug his nails into her ass. It was reflexive, instinctual, body almost moving without his instruction. He felt himself twitch, and relief flooded him in waves of pleasure that left him shaking underneath her. 

It really _had_ been a while. 

The woman on top of him slowed, and then stopped. Arthur’s eyes were still closed, savouring the sudden relaxed drowsiness that had taken him over. The soft, very wet warmth around his cock slowly withdrew, and he cracked his eyes open to watch Nora climbing off his lap, hurrying over to where he’d left the rag earlier. He sluggishly lowered his hand to cup himself, hoping he hadn’t made a mess of the couch, though it was probably already too late. 

Nora held the rag against herself as she came back with the water, and Arthur sat up, still trembling a little as she handed it to him. He took a long, long drink, and then gave her the can. She finished it off, placing it down on the table, and taking a seat next to him. 

He suddenly noticed the flush in her face, and his cheeks burned as he realised that he’d- before she’d-

“You ok?” she asked gently. 

He nodded, swallowing. “I...left you rather…”

She smiled, leaning back against the couch. “Don’t...it’s ok.” 

Biting his lip, he reached over and drew her in for a kiss. Nora moaned softly against his mouth. Arthur shifted closer, his right arm slipping around her waist and dipping down. He pushed her hands aside, beneath the cloth, and rubbed two fingertips against that little nub. Nora tensed, arching, her eyes fluttering shut. 

“Arthur,” she whimpered. 

He twisted her around and tugged the cloth away, dragging her onto her back and laying her across the couch. Kneeling between her thighs, Arthur resumed stroking her, one hand cupping her breast as he kissed her roughly. Nora hooked her arms beneath his, grabbing at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Her hips twitched against his fingers, and he pushed two into her. He let his other hand drop to stroke his thumb against her as his fingers stroked her walls. The noise of his hand was _wet_ and he looked down to where he was touching her. His fingers glistened in the light. 

When he looked up, Nora was watching his hands, an expression of pained pleasure on her face that he distracted with another kiss. Her thighs tensed. He could hear her whimpering, feeling it buzz against his mouth, and he pulled back to let her breathe, his head finding the unmarked side of her neck. His teeth dug in. Nora growled, scratching down his back. Arthur’s body tingled, and despite his recent orgasm, he could already feel his arousal coming back in full force as he kept on touching her. He licked across the marks he left in her skin, and her lips brushed his shoulder. Her sharp gasps filled the air. 

The boots clamped tight around his waist, and Arthur thrust his fingers a little faster, feeling the tremble that ran through her body. She was tightening around him again, nails scraping trails of pleasurable fire down his back. Desperate keening noises escaped her lips. Arthur kept on going, dimly wondering if she would be up to go again as his cock hardened. 

Her voice broke, and she dragged him against her as she clamped down on his fingers, hips bucking frantically. Arthur pulled back to watch her face, his forehead pressing against hers. Once again, she looked like she was in _pain_ , but she surged into his touches with sharp cries, her eyes shutting tightly. She arched up to kiss him, both hands moving to cup his face and tangle into his hair. Arthur groaned as she pulled again. 

In a few moments, she was shifting away from his hands, and he relented, fingers pulling out of her. Nora lay back against the couch, panting, and Arthur retrieved the cloth, wiping off his fingers before he pressed it against her slit. 

“Nobody else can use this couch,” she panted, her eyes half closed.

Arthur laughed, and she looked up at him, smiling softly. 

“How are you going to keep that from happening?” he asked. 

“Put it in my bedroom,” she suggested. 

His mouth went dry. “Logical.”

She reached up for him, pulling him in for a kiss. Arthur slid his hands over her thighs, up to her hips, and then to her breasts before he wrapped his arms around her. Nora made soft little moans as their lips moved together, tongue occasionally flicking against the seam of his lips as she let out a contented sigh. His erection pressed against her thigh, as if reminding her, and she laughed.

“You’re, uh…” She looked up at him, brushing a hand through his hair. “Again?”

His cheeks burned. “If...you’re amenable.”

She smiled, one hand smoothing across his face. “Give me a moment.”

He could do that. 

“So, how was _not talking_?” she asked. 

His brow furrowed. Then he remembered. “Oh. It was…” He paused. _Mindblowing. Exceeding expectations. Outstanding._ “I...enjoyed it.”

She thumbed along the Deathclaw scar, biting her lip. “Me too,” she whispered. “Do you...would you...like to... _not talk_ more often?”

Arthur’s brow rose. “Does it have to involve you keeping secrets and me launching an investigation every time?”

Nora laughed, and drew him in for another kiss. “No. Unless you...want it to.”

He chuckled. “Hard pass.”

She let her fingers trail down his chest, moving through the dark hairs, eyes following her hand. Her expression was soft when she looked up at him. Then she grinned. “So, Elder Maxson. You’ve caught the Silver Shroud. Will I be allowed to roam wild and free after this?”

He leaned down and nipped at her lower lip. “Why wouldn’t you?”

She shrugged, her cheeks flushed. “You...might need to, um...question me.”

He licked his lips as he fumbled over a response, his mind flashing up pictured of her tied to a chair, wearing barely more of the costume than she was now. “ _Fuck,”_ he muttered, cock throbbing. His eyes fell on the tattered remains of her pants, still lying on the floor. “You might need to change your clothes.”

Nora’s eyes followed his gaze, and then slid back to him. “I thought you said you’d pay for that,” she reminded him. 

Arthur sighed. “I did,” he agreed. 

She nodded. “Ok, but are you coming to collect them when Kent repairs them?”

He frowned. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Because Kent is a ghoul.” 


End file.
